


The Luxury of Lacking Confidence

by oldmythologies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, Crazy, Hurt/Comfort, I know, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Shance Big Bang 2017, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Water, lance learning to be confident, shiro being a bamf, shiro opening up, whaaaaattttt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmythologies/pseuds/oldmythologies
Summary: They knew how it worked; Lance was always the damsel in distress and Shiro was the big strong hero who came to save him. When Shiro’s lion is hit by a vicious attack, he is knocked off course and careens into an ice planet. Lance finally elects himself the hero and has to save Shiro from his own injuries and the Galra ships searching the planet. Shiro, feverish and low on blood, is forced to confront his demons; Lance has to learn how to fight them off.





	The Luxury of Lacking Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> I am so ridiculously excited to finally post this. I finished this in the first week of July and have just been sitting on my hands for months. My amazing partners are [@cycychang](http://cycychang.tumblr.com/) and [@vaporwave-shiro](http://vaporwave-shiro.tumblr.com/). I love you guys to pieces and couldn't have asked for a better team.
> 
> cycychang's pieces:
> 
>  [Here](http://cycychang.tumblr.com/post/166371273498/the-luxury-of-lacking-confidence-by-oldmythos-i)
> 
> vaporwave-shiro's pieces:
> 
> [Here](http://vaporwave-shiro.tumblr.com/post/166446372031/the-luxury-of-lacking-confidence-by-oldmythos)

Lance hit the floor with a dull thud and a groan. The gladiator dissolved into pixels as Lance laid back with a sigh.

“I’m never going to get this.”

Shiro extended his hand down and Lance reached up to grab it. Shiro hefted him up without Lance having to work a single muscle. _That was hot_.

Lance bit his tongue before he could tell Shiro just that.

“You’re almost there. You just have to keep your center of gravity lower. You forget how tall you are.”

Lance groaned. “You make it sound so easy.”

Shiro laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess it gets easy.”

Lance tried what Shiro suggested, squatting a bit and moving from foot to foot.

“Okay,” he told himself, “I got this.”

Shiro smiled and stepped back. “You got this.”

The gladiator materialized in front of him and Lance shifted up and down once more, getting comfortable. His opponent fixed him with a look and charged, sword at the ready. At the last moment, just like they’d practiced, Lance rolled to the side. The gladiator was caught of guard and stumbled a few steps, letting Lance easily roll back up to his feet and whoop in success.

“Keep your guard up!” Shiro reminded from the edge of the training room. Lance pulled himself back together, lowered his center of gravity, and let the gladiator find him once more.

Once more, Lance jumped out of the way right at the last section.

“Yes!” he shouted.

“It’s not over yet,” Shiro yelled back, “your opponents are going to be bigger than you, and sometimes faster, stay on your toes!”

“I know, I know,” he mumbled, unable to hold back the laugh as he watched the gladiator lurch into the spot he had just been. It was a couple more passes of the same before Lance decided to mix it up. This time, instead of pulling another sick ass ninja roll, he dropped to the ground, letting the gladiator’s swing pass above him, grabbed its mechanical leg, and pulled it to the ground.

Its sword spilled out of its hand and before it could even reach for it, Lance had the blade in his own hand. The gladiator didn’t even have time to flip over before Lance shoved the sword into the back of its neck.

Lance breathed over the body as it dissolved back into ones and zeros, disappearing, along with the sword, back into the castle. He filled his lungs with air, wiped the sweat off his brow, and yelled to the ceiling.

“I freaking _rock!_ ”

Shiro laughed at Lance’s dumb little happy dance.

“You certainly do.”

Lance ran up to Shiro, waving his arms wildly.

“Did you see that?! That was so cool! I’m like a ninja now!”

Shiro hid his laughter in his hand as Lance kept talking.

“Next you have to teach me how to do the sick ninja flips,” Lance said, continuing to pace the training deck, “and do those cool punches. Those are so cool, how long did they take to learn?”

Lance turned back to Shiro, expecting an answer. Shiro stood stock still, fists clenched at his sides.

“Shiro?” Lance asked, confused.

“I don’t know how long it took,” Shiro finally responded. He looked up and Lance caught Shiro’s eyes. He was shocked to see the pain they held.

“Maybe a year? Maybe less.” Shiro looked back down, closed his eyes, and took a breath. When he looked back up, a smile had been plastered on his face and the wrinkles on his forehead had been forcefully smoothed out.

“Great job today, Lance.”

Lance was still just staring. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” said this facade of Shiro.

“You know I’m always ready to listen. I might even be able to help.”

Shiro’s shoulders slumped and he nodded. Shiro’s smile was less forced this time, softer. Lance barely caught his quiet “I know, thank you.”

Shiro shook his head.

“Again, you did great today. Be up bright and early for the mission tomorrow.”

Lance groaned.

“I hate mornings.”

Shiro laughed once more, a bit duller than before. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Lance huffed. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

* * *

 It was just supposed to be a patrol. That’s what Coran always said. “It’s just a patrol, some easy light reconnaissance, you’ll be back before the second moon rises!” He didn’t seem to mind that they were on a spaceship that had no moons. Lance could swear that a solid eighty to ninety percent of his life was spent trying to figure out what in the universe Coran was trying to say. Maybe on Altea, “easy” meant something entirely different.

That was the only explanation for running into an entire Galra fleet, plus command ship, while on an “easy patrol.”

It was the only possible explanation for it happening three missions in a row.

They’d expected a small population with a little bit of a Galra problem. They’d pull some information from their lion’s sensors and return back with the information. Easy, right?

Wrong.

The planet they found was long abandoned, flooded and frozen in the 10,000 years since the Alteans had accrued their knowledge of the wider universe. Lance couldn’t spend the little reaction time he had wondering how it had gotten that way; he spent it trying to dodge the first laser blast.

It sailed right past him, just barely missing his lion’s flank as he pulled her sharply out of the way. He went to fix his eyes on the closest approaching ship and couldn’t decide which on that was; he had at the very least three ships headed his way from different directions.

“Shiro,” he shouted, “what do we do?”

Shiro didn’t respond immediately.

They were hopelessly outnumbered. Two weapons, even if they were two of the greatest weapons in the universe, could not take in numbers like this. Despite the fact that they were in the expanse of space, Lance started to feel claustrophobic as the ships pressed down.

“Shiro!” he yelled again.

“I’m thinking!”

Lance could hear the strain in Shiro’s voice. “You need to get back to the castle. There’s no way we can take them on our own; it’s the only way.”

Lance yelped, quickly dodging another blast. “How? They’re everywhere!”

“Lance,” Shiro started, “just go as fast as you can. Contact the ship and get everyone else ready. I’ll catch up.”

Lance’s breath hitched. “I’m not leaving you.”

Shiro shook his head on Lance’s screen. “You aren’t. I’ll catch up.”

Shiro deftly dodged one of the missiles and summoned Black’s jaw blade, slicing through one of his attackers. Black was backlit by the explosion, and when the light faded away, Lance was once again struck by how freaking cool Shiro was.

He chewed on his bottom lip. Everything in him was screaming to stay, fight, to make sure that Shiro was safe with him. Shiro would have hated to hear about that instinct that told Lance to put himself in danger if it meant keeping Shiro safe.

“Lance!” Shiro called, cutting off his train of thought. “You need to go.”

“But Shiro—“

“I need you to be safe, okay?” Shiro pleaded, eyes fervent. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

Lance could feel the emotion Shiro was trying to send with that look, those words. He dismissed it. He could deal with it later.

He sighed. “Aye aye, captain.”

Shiro avoided yet another blast, swerving around three or four fighters with his jaw blade, leaving only rubble and wreckage in his wake. The many remaining ships focused their blasts on the black lion. Lance turned Blue away from the fight, cutting off his view of Black, and let out a sonic blast, clearing a path for himself, now reassured that Shiro could do it. He watched Shiro’s determined face on his screen.

Shiro glanced up and caught Lance’s eyes on his own. He gave a soft smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got thi—“

Lance’s image of Shiro turned into static.

“ _Shiro_!” he yelled.

His hands clutched at the console and he wished the lion had rear view mirrors. All he had was that screen. He slowed Blue, desperately hoping that the static had something to do with connection.

Should he turn back?

“Shiro, talk to me!”

Static.

He bit down on his lip. Something had happened to Shiro and all Shiro had was him.

_It’s now or never, Lance._

If Lance was the one who disappeared, Shiro would at the very least turn around. Shiro would probably also save the day or maybe destroy the entire Galra empire while he was at it.

_Now or never._

He turned Blue.

He had expected a slightly messed up black lion, still fighting the fight, and hundreds of ship. He did not expect empty space where Shiro had been only moments before. He did not expect to see the ships racing towards the planet, chasing something.

_What were they chasing?_ He asked himself.

_Shiro._

Oh my god, they were chasing Shiro. That meant Shiro had gone down. If Shiro had gone down, what possible chance did Lance have?

What would Shiro do?

Shiro would probably chase the broken lion down to the plant and try to save the day all on his own. Shiro was also apparently plummeting toward the planet at that very moment.

Lance wasn’t Shiro; he could never be Shiro, no one could. Shiro was the expert at getting himself into shitty situations and getting himself out, alone.

Lance wasn’t Shiro.

“Lance to the Castle,” he said.

Almost immediately, Coran’s face popped up, occupying the space Shiro’s had been just moments before.

“What’s going on, number three?” he asked.

“Shiro’s going down,” he started. “I’m going after him. There are a whole lot of Galra here, so,” he grinned sheepishly. “Um, send backup?”

He closed the connection before Coran could respond.

He could do this.

_He could do this._

Lance followed the fleet of ships down to the planet’s surface.

* * *

 The emptiness was kind of terrifying. He knew people used to live here, but as far as he could see, there was nothing but cold, flat ice. The spires reaching up in the distance brought the image of a cursed castle to his mind, the kind that the evil queen would live in.

It was night here, the sky filled with distant flashes and lights more from the Galra than the stars themselves.

Lance hated the quiet, and here, quiet was all there was. Lance couldn’t help but picture those nature documentaries from Earth, the old ones, from before the ice caps melted, where there was just a white rabbit, hiding alone beneath the snow as the wind raged above.

Lance was the rabbit, the Galra were the foxes, and he needs to find a hole in the snow to hide in,

The lights on the horizon were getting closer. He dimmed Blue’s glow so as to stay hidden as as long as possible. Considering the speed at which the lights were approaching, it wouldn’t be long.

“Think, Lance,” he said aloud, closing his eyes. “I’ve got this.”

He opened his eyes to Blue searching for cover.

Nothing: only the spires in the distance and the flat, blue expanse of dark ice.

_Ice._

“Blue! Check if there’s anything under us.”

He spoke to her but performed the action himself, hand moving through the controls under the direction of something other than himself.

_There_.

Lance threw his fists up in the air in celebration. Under just six feet of ice, water. Blue pointed her head down and let loose.

They fell with the chunks of shattered ice and Lance immediately felt Blue’s power swell around him. Together, they turned their heads back up and froze the hole back over, leaving no sign of their entrance.

Hidden under the ice, hidden in the snow bank, Lance and the rabbit were safe.He turned up Blue’s headlights just a bit under the ice, not so high that the Galra would be able to see, but just enough to see the water in front of them. It lit up nothing; before Lance’s eyes, there was nothing but black.

The image projected into his mind was a different story.

Blue was always clearer when they were underwater. Swimming with her was like dancing with an adept partner. They never spoke in words, but it was like he could see her face, her body, the little steps she took in her movements. He knew what she was feeling, and right now, she felt scared. As a paladin, Lance was used to the mind link. He knew what it felt like; the mind link he was familiar with felt nothing like this. Blue looked at him, breathing heavily, like her head had been cut off.

“Hey,” he shushed, “if you can take me to them, I can help, please.”

She was afraid, but he felt her look into herself and down that dim thread that connected her to Black. It led down to the deep; she was under the water with them, and she was tired. She was so tired.

Lance swallowed down the panic.

“I can do this,” he told himself, but in his mind, it was Shiro’s voice.

Blue sped through the water and the thread connecting her the Black got stronger, thicker, brighter by the second. Lance looked up every once in a while, trying to catch the lights from Galra speeders through the warped, translucent ice. Words spilled out, just to fight the quiet.

“Almost there Blue. I’m sure they’ll be fine, because Shiro is always fine. He’s been through way worse and came out on the other side. He can do this. We can do this. Right, Blue?”

She didn’t respond, instead slowing in the water.

“Are we here?” he asked.

He brought the lights up, bit by bit, until he could see just a flash off of metal, and then a bit more, until he could finally see the empty shell of Black, the lights in her eyes dead. Blue reached out and barely got a murmur in response. Lance tried to open up his channel with Shiro again.

Static.

Lance sighed.

“Okay, this is fine. I can do this. Shiro is right in there. I just need to get Shiro out and safe, and Black will repair herself, right?”

Blue purred.

Lance took a quick breath, in and out, through pursed lips.

“I got this.”

He stood up from the pilot’s chair and he felt his connection with Blue pull away when his hands left the controls.

“I’m right here,” he reassured both the lion and himself, “and I got this.” 

* * *

 The water was colder than he’d expected. Even in the watertight suit and this far away from the planet’s frozen shell, the cold stabbed through his armor. He gasped.

“Oh, that’s cold!” His voice echoed in his ears and his ears alone.

He kicked his feet and let the jetpack propel him the rest of the way. His lights just barely illuminated the area around him. Lance knew zero gravity and the empty blackness of space; this was exactly the opposite. This was a weight, pressing into his flesh from all sides. It was almost comforting, in a strange way, like being simultaneously carried and held by some universal force. He tried to imagine in the same situation; he didn’t imagine Shiro would feel quite the same way.

Black’s hulking face laid in the sand in front of him, on her side. Lance tried not to look too closely at the fractures running through her glass eyes.

“Black?” he shouted.

No response. Her mouth didn’t open, her eyes didn’t light up, her tail didn’t twitch.

“Black, I really need to get to Shiro. Help me out, please.”

His pleading didn’t work and Blue shot him a confusing mix of worry and reassurance.

He looked back at her splintered eyes, knowing that Shiro was behind him. He couldn’t do that. There was no way Black could repair herself if he did, and Shiro’s helmet was probably busted. He’d choke on the water, unable to move, and drown, still waiting for Lance—

Lance cut off his own panicked thoughts.

“He needed another way in. Lance spoke as he circled the lion.

“I remember once when my sister snuck out to go hang with her boyfriend or whatever she forgot her key. She went to throw pebble at my and my brother’s window until one of us would wake up and let her in.”

He tried to peak in through the eyes, but there was too much condensation on the inside. That meant water had made it in and there was still a little bit of warmth inside. That was good. Warmth meant life.

“Anyways,” he continued to no one, “apparently my sister is really bad at windows or has terrible aim or is just stupid, because she missed and woke up my mom.” He laughed. “Mama was not happy about that, but that night she just let my sister in and waited until the morning to yell at her.”

He swam to the underside of Black’s jaw, searching for some kind of latch or lever or—

_There._

He braced his feet against Black’s hull and pulled, pushing against her for leverage. Lance felt the water displace as she opened her mouth, scraping against the sand. He let himself be sucked in and the mouth closed behind him.

“Oh, Black, you’re in there!” he shouted as the water drained out from beneath his feet, letting gravity take hold of him once more, leaving him standing on the side of her mouth. “Thank you!”

He stumbled to the open door to the cockpit. It was no easy task to make his way there, hurdling over doorways fallen onto their sides and wading through scattered supplies. He saw an open first aid kit and grabbed it. There wasn’t much in it, because Alteans never found much need for them with their healing pods, but Shiro insisted on having something just in case. Lance was thinking that he’d finally found that “in case”.

He refused to let the silence get to him.

“Jeez, Shiro, don’t you ever clean up in here? It’s a pigsty!” When he was greeted with silence, Lance forced a stale, slightly hysteric laugh. “I’m glad the perfect golden boy pilot is a mess, makes me feel better about myself!”

He was prepared for the echo of his own voice to be his only response, but as Lance approached to cockpit, he heard the sound of water rushing, and underneath that, a barely audible soft moan.

“Shiro?!” he yelled.

The voice groaned out something quiet and too distant for Lance to make out.

“Don’t worry Shiro, I’m almost there, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Lance was impressed at the steadiness of his own voice. _Go Lance_.

The entrance to the cockpit finally opened and he was greeted with a scene from a movie. Wires hung down from the ceiling and he swore he saw sparks dramatically fall and sputter. Shiro hung sideways from his chair, right arm pinned to his side and left hanging limp. Blood trickled off of his fingertips and into the churning water, which spilled in from the cracks in Black’s eyes.

Lance tried not to watch the blood swirl together and disappear into the inky black water, but if he looked away, up, that meant taking in Shiro’s form, slack, dangling, covered in blood, and held in place by broken pieces of his console. One was wedged under his torso and Lance could see light scratches where it had brushed his stomach, and one stabbed through the chair between Shiro’s legs.

Lance traced the blood up from Shiro’s curled fingers. It ran red down his arm, red down his white armor, red darkening the already black bodysuit, and red to the shrapnel in his leg. Lance gulped. That was a lot of blood.

He could do this. He waded through the water that just barely reached his own knees. He tentatively supported Shiro’s head his his hand and tilted his own to look Shiro in the eye. Shiro groaned and furrowed his brow, lips forming soundless words.

“Wake up, sleep head.” Lance whispered.

Shiro worked his jaw before cracking his eyes open. Lance could barely make out his voice.

“—ere ‘m I—“

He looked around for Lance’s eyes but couldn’t quite find them, eyes hazy and unfocused. Lance patted his cheek, turning his head to match Shiro’s

“You’re right here with me, Shiro.” Lance laughed and Shiro was too out of it to notice how broken it sounded,

Shiro mumbled something and closed his eyes again. Lance tried to ignore the whimper from Shiro when he removed the hand. Lance kept talking as he analyzed the situation. He needed to stop the bleeding, and he needed to do it now. He’d taken first aid classes in the garrison; he had a first aid kit. He could do this.

“Wow, you suck at piloting, he began, opening the first aid kit. It was next to empty and Lance suspected that a lot of the contents had been scattered throughout the lion, but he had gauze. “I always said so, you know. Nope, Takashi Shirogane was never my hero, because even then I know how he left his lion a mess.”

In theory, he knew how to make a tourniquet. It was just something tied tightly, right?

“You know who my hero is?” He searched the water, wading along the cockpit’s wall turned floor, looking for some sort of stick to twist the gauze tighter. He pulled a wet piece of metal up. He wondered what it had been a part of and hoped Black didn’t need it.

“Bob Ross.” He waded up to Shiro’s thigh. “Bob Ross is my inspiration. He never leaves trees lonely. Trees should never be lonely.”

The cut was closer to the knee than the hip, which was good, but Lance still grimaced when he saw it up close. It was bad. He could almost see Shiro’s heartbeats in the blood flowing freely from the wound. It wasn’t clean either, no one straight line to stitch up. It was like something had grabbed and ripped through Shiro’s skin, but then again, something had. He had to move fast.

“I’m pretty sure Bob Ross was a magician.” He snaked the gauze behind Shiro leg and winced when Shiro jerked with a soft whimper. “I have no idea how he does it.” He wrapped the gauze around the leg a few more times and knotted it. “He’s like _and then you twist the brush, very softly, and you have a happy tree!_ and if that’s not magic, then I don’t know what is.”

Lance pushed the piece of metal through the knot and twisted, again and again, tightening the pressure and clamping off the arteries. Shiro screamed, dangling in the chair, and Lance just kept talking, louder as he secured the metal.

“And then he always has those baby squirrels on the show.” He tied the final knot, grimacing. Shiro was still making small, pitiful noises, tears streaming down his face and into the water. The blood has slowed to a trickle. Not perfect, and Lance knew he had to find some better way to stop the bleeding once they got back to Blue, but it would keep him alive for now.

“How you doing, Shiro?”

Shiro mumbled and weakly shook his head.

“I know it hurts, but you’ve got to work with me.”

The water was now up to Lance’s hips.

“I bet it hurt more when my sister decided I was a better target than the piñata at her eighth birthday party.”

Lance told Shiro all about that fateful day when he hadn’t stood far enough away from his sister after he spun her around three times. Shiro’s breathing evened out at his words and Lance counted that as a win.

Shiro was not a light man. Six feet of muscle didn’t weigh nothing and Lance stood, trying to best figure out how to get Shiro out of the sideways chair without hurting either of them on the shrapnel around him. Lance’s story and contemplation were interrupted by one of Shiro’s whispers.

“Hm?” he said, casual as can be. “Speak up.”

Shiro swallowed and tried again.

“The water.”

It was now almost to Lance’s waist. It brushed the tips of Shiro’s fingers. Lance’s eyes widened.

“Ooh, good idea! I knew there was a reason we keep you around.”

He pulled the helmet off of Shiro’s head, gently, and couldn’t help his fingers from running through Shiro’s sweaty hair.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

He grabbed his own helmet and replaced it with Shiro’s shattered one. The blue helmet fit comfortably on Shiro’s head and immediately activated into the full face plate.

Shiro tried to protest, but his quiet words were muffled.

“Hush, golden boy. I’m a great swimmer and you’re a mess. He looked up. “Black, if you’re awake, can you please open all hatches? I need to save our boy.”

He felt her comply and heard the water rush in.

The water rose up from below and Lance took one last desperate breath as water filled the cockpit. Like this, it was easy for Lance to just float Shiro out of the chair. The shrapnel stayed embedded in the seat and Lance was glad the water muffled Shiro’s screams as it pulled out of his flesh. Lance slung the metal arm around his shoulder and turned his thrusters on, carefully navigating the debris by the faint light from his armor. The water behind them was stained by a trail of red, a zigzagging line down Black’s quiet hallways.

Exiting through Black’s open maw, Lance felt his lungs begin to burn.

So close now. He felt Blue pulling to him, could almost see her through the water.

The thrusters were running out of energy and Shiro was a dead weight with an anchor attached to him.

Lance needed to breathe. He was so close.

Blue opened her mouth in front of him.

_He needed to breathe._

He kicked with the failing thrusters and her mouth closed back around him. The water drained and they were left on the floor of Blue’s mouth. Lance pulled of the helmet, threw it to the side, and sucked in a loud breath, panting on the floor. He turned to Shiro, ready to make some quip about how cool that had been, but Shiro’s position made him pause. He was somehow simultaneously completely slack and shivering.

Lance scrambled up and pulled the blue helmet off of his head. In the light of Blue, Lance could finally see him.

He was too pale, too still. Lance didn’t even try to check his rambling anymore, random words of worry and doubt spilling past his lips and to Shiro’s deaf ears. Shiro didn’t even try to move or respond. Lance patted Shiro’s cheek.

It was so cold.

“Shiro, buddy, you’ve gotta wake up for me, okay? I need you to open your eyes because if you don’t, Keith will have to pilot Black and literally no one wants that.

Shiro head lolled to the side.

Lance moved his hand down to hover over Shiro’s neck. Did he even want to consider it?

“I really really really hope you’re alive.”

He pressed his gloved fingers onto the vein.

It was thready and weak, but the pulse was there, thrumming against the fabric. Lance shook as he ripped the gloves off his hands. He moved his hands back to Shiro’s neck and hissed when they touched his skin.

He was so cold.

“We’ve been in the same water, right? Why are you so cold?”

Shiro, of course, said nothing. He looked Shiro’s prone form up and down. The water had rinsed off much of the blood, but a few stubborn spots stuck to the armor. The pieces started to fit together in Lance’s mind when he saw the wound on Shiro’s leg drip onto the pristine metal ground.

“Shit,” his eyes widened, “shit, Shiro, I did the tourniquet. I did everything _right_.”

His lips trembled. He didn’t even notice the tears start to well up until they fell.

“Shiro, you need to tell me what to do.” He took a shaky breath. “ _Please._ ”

He huddled over Shiro’s head, hands cupping his face.

Lance slapped him.

“Shiro!” he shouted desperately. “Wake up! I don’t know what to do!You don’t have enough blood and you’re cold and you’re going to die and I’m going to be alone and I’m going to be alone and I’m never going to—“

Lance slapped him again.

Shiro’s eyes shocked open, confused for a second, and then melted back into barely coherent pain, pupils unfocused.

“Shiro!” he almost laughed in relief.

“Lance?” Shiro pushed out, a whisper in the heavy air.

“Yeah, it’s me, I’m right here, but you’re bleeding out on the floor at the bottom of an ocean and I—“ he swallowed. “The tourniquet isn’t working. I don’t know what to do. Shiro, I really need you to stay with me so I can save your life, okay?”

Shiro nodded.

“What do I do?” he pleaded.

Shiro closed his eyes and opened them to meet Lance’s. The fear was visible. He mouthed something Lance couldn’t quite catch.

“What?”

Shiro swallowed and tried again. “I’m going to cauterize it.”

Lance blinked.

“It’s going to suck.”

Lance shook his head. “No. No no no, there has to be another way. Do you know what happens when people burn their wounds shut? Like in the movies? There’s always screaming and— and— and sometimes the people, they don’t make it, and—“

“Lance,” Shiro interrupted, “you don’t have the luxury of lacking confidence right now.”

Shiro’s eyes were clear for the first time since he crashed. Lance searched them for any sign of doubt, and when he found none, he set his jaw.

“What do I have to do?”

Shiro closed his eyes and lit up his arm, the glow overwhelming in the small space.

“Hold me steady.”

Shiro screamed the entire time, from the second his own hand pressed into the flesh to the second it went del and limp and his face went slack once more. Lance held the wounded leg down, pressing his entire weight on the leg to keep Shiro from instinctively arching away from the pain. He bit down on his lip to keep himself from sobbing as Shiro thrashed in agony.

Lance held the leg, breathing heavily, for a long moment after Shiro went still, watching the skin bubble.

It wasn’t bleeding anymore.

He stayed like that for a long time, hands on Shiro’s now still leg. He couldn’t look away. The burned skin was red and puffy, the raised edges blackened.

He couldn’t look away. The image of Shiro, the leader, the golden boy, his hero, and his lifelong crush, screaming and writhing on the ground, his face lit by his own arm, the very thing that at that moment was causing him so much pain. Lance swirled his own blood in his mouth, the teeth having broken through the inside of his cheek from when he had to force himself to not scream along with Shiro.

For a long time, Lance was quiet. He hated the silence. It forced him back into his head; it made him realize how completely and utterly _fucked_ they were. Miles below the thick ice, deep in the oceans of an unknown planet, hiding from hundreds of search parties. He could barely turn on the lights or they’d be found.

He stared at the charred wound, and for just a second, Lance didn’t see it. It wasn’t his friend’s leg, but but some dead meat, red on the barbecue back home. When the image snapped back into focus with Shiro’s shudder, Lance reeled, scrambling backwards on his hands and knees. The tears kept falling as his eyes widened and knees came up to curl into his chest.

They were so screwed. They were so _screwed_. Lance wasn’t Shiro, he was just some kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got sucked into space. He couldn’t contact the castle or the Galra would lock onto the signal from above and track them down into the water. When Shiro woke up, Lance had barely any food food on hand. He was scarily low on blood and Lance had nothing to replenish it.

There was nothing he could do. Shiro would know what to do, but Lance was huddled in a corner. He couldn’t do it.

_You don’t have the luxury of lacking confidence._ Shiro’s words echoed in his head.

He couldn’t do it; he didn’t know how. It didn’t change the fact that he needed to.

Lance took a deep breath and stood up. He had no idea what do do, but he was going to do it.

“Okay, Shiro, we can do this.” He spoke once more.

He didn’t realize how much he need the sound until it came back, filling the hollow whispers of the lion. Blue reached into his mind and poked at his cancer. He saw her own worry for Black, her worry for Shiro, her worry for him. She told him it would be alright.

“I’m glad you’re here, Blue.”

She purred around him. With her strength added to his, he started moving. He was singing some dumb song about singing as he walked up to the cockpit, forcing down the parts of himself that just wanted to go back to trembling in a corner.

Back at the pilot’s seat, looking through Blue’s eyes, he felt the life around him. He felt hulking movements in the distant water and he didn’t think they wanted to see what that was. He felt schools of alien fish, and far, far above, he felt sentry feet pounding on the ice. He felt Shiro’s weak light, connected to him, connected to Blue, connected to Black, distant and small in his mind.

The sentry footsteps were too numerous to count, their heavy tread reaching all the way down to Blue’s sensors.

There was no way a second transmission would make it through. He just had to trust that they were coming. Next step, get Shiro up here so Lance could monitor both Shiro and the environment at the same time. He could do that.

“I can do that, right? I’m buff now. I am the freaking best and our training is absurd. Ooh, I would be so much more motivated to train if instead of weights I just got to lift Shiro, like, all day.”

He almost had a smile on his face when he got back to Shiro, but it dropped immediately. Still unmoving, pale, and cold, laying in the exact same position Lance had left him in. Lance pouted.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

No response.

“This is where you would say something like ‘I don’t need to do anything to help, you’re super strong and tough and hot and I’m sure you can pick up my big man body on-handed.’”

Lance stood above Shiro and put his hands on his hips.

“Alright. Lift with the knees.”

Lance crouched down and carefully threaded on arm behind Shiro’s torso, careful of the small, sealing cut on the side of his stomach. He lifted Shiro’s right arm over his shoulder and let his body carry the weight of the metal arm. His other arm went underneath Shiro’s knees, careful not to jostle the fresh would too much.

One breath in, one breath out.

“Lift with your knees, Lance.”

He stood and whooped.

“Hell yeah! That was so easy! I’m buff now, Shiro!”

Shiro’s head lolled against his shoulder and Lance’s grin faltered, pressing his cheek against the top of Shiro’s head.

“It’s gonna be okay. I promise. I know they’re coming for us.”

Up in the bridge, with the whole wide ocean in front of them, Lance turned Blue’s head up so he could watch the distant Galra lights flickering above the ice.

“They’re on their way. Hold tight.” 

* * *

Lance’s voice was getting tired and he was running out of songs. Shiro’s head pillowed on his lap and the soft breaths every few seconds were the only things that kept him going. Lance looked down at him at him and brushed the hair out of his face. His fingers just barely came into contact with Shiro’s forehead and a shiver ran through Lance.

_He’s so cold._

Lance stopped singing abruptly and pressed the back of his hand against Shiro’s cheek, his neck, his forehead.

_He’s way too cold._

Lance furrowed his brow. “Blue, can you turn up the heat in here?” He felt her shrug and a weak wave of warmth encompassed them both.

“That’s not enough.”

Lance didn’t know all that much about hypothermia or temperatures or blood loss, but he knew that Shiro could not stay this cold and come out of it unharmed. Right? He wasn’t that cold, maybe a few degrees below Lance’s own temperature. What did they do in movies when this happened? Lance was hit by images of bear skin rugs and naked people huddling by a fire.

_Body heat?_

“Got any more, Blue?”

She gave as much warmth as she could spare, fighting the constant frigid water against her hull, but sent back the feeling of _no_. She wasn’t built for that. Lance sighed and pulled his armor off over his head.

“Alright Shiro, I guess we’re doing that naked cuddling for body heat trope. It’s happening.”

Lance picked Shiro’s head up off his lap to take off the rest of his armor and Shiro stirred, just barely cracking open his eyes.

“Wha’s happenin’?” he slurred.

“I’m finally getting naked with you! Isn’t that exciting?!”

Shiro groaned into the metal.

“Can you help me get your armor off?”

Shiro nodded and hissed, pushing himself to sitting. Under absolutely any other circumstances, Lance would think that his tired, glazed over look and bed head were adorable. Now it just kind of hurt. Lance lifted on the armor and Shiro raised his arms obediently. The gloves and arm pieces slid off easily, leaving Shiro wobbling in just the leg armor and undersuit.

“You want me to take off the leg pieces?” Lance asked, dropping his own on the floor.

Shiro nodded and Lance’s face fell into a soft expression. Shiro never asked for help.

He pulled off the armor, piece by piece, until all that was left was the thigh piece just underneath the cauterized wound.

“Ready?” he asked, putting on a brave face for Shiro.

Again, Shiro just nodded. Lanc started peeling it away, little bits of skin and fabric cooked onto the armor pulling away as he did. Shiro whimpered and Lance threw the offending piece to the other side of the cockpit.

“‘m cold.” He mumbled.

“I know,” Lance said, wiping away the sweat that had gathered on Shiro’s forehead. He pulled the top half of his body suit down to his waist. “That’s why we’re getting naked.

Shiro shook his head violently.

“No. This is okay. Suit on.”

“Shiro, what are you talking about?! That thing is still wet and it’s just pulling the heat away from you. You need warmth and I’m plenty hot for the both of us.”

“Lance, it’s not pretty, not anymore.”

Lance stared at him once more, mouth agape.

“You have to be kidding, Shiro. You are a walking demigod.”

Shiro shook his head, weaker this time.

“I don’t care what self hate you have stuck in your head. You’re getting naked and I’m going to hold you and that is that.”

Shiro hung his head and slowly, tiredly pulled away the suit.

His skin was more scar than not, a network of stories and memories and injuries that Shiro couldn’t quite hold in his head. Lance choked on his gasp. Shiro shivered, exposed the the warm air.

Lance’s voice was soft. “Much better, right?”

He slipped in behind Shiro, back to the wall, and wrapped his arms around the larger man. He pulled him in, pressing the man’s back into his chest. Shiro melted into the warmth and Lance hissed at the press of the cold, rough skin of Shiro’s back.

“God, Shiro, you’re freezing.”

Shiro hummed, turning his head into Lance’s chest. “You’re warm.”

“Excuse you, I’m _hot_.” Shiro laughed weakly, warm huffs of air over Lance’s chest.

“Happy I get to die in a hot guy’s arms.”

Lance held him tighter. “No one is dying here.”

Shiro nuzzled in further and let out a breath. “‘m sorry, Lance.”

“Sorry for what?”

“All of it.” His voice was fading fast. Lance pressed his nose into Shiro’s hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Go to sleep, I’ll be right here.”

Shiro hummed and passed back out. 

* * *

 Shiro’s hair smelled like brine and dead fish and sweat. By all logic, Lance should be pulling away from him in disgust, but there was something beneath it all that held him in, undertones of comfort beneath the overwhelming scent of blood.

He knew Shiro had been through a lot with the Galra. Logically, he knew that. He saw the surface changes: Shiro’s hair, his scar, the arm, but the patchwork of his skin drilled a deeper story into Lance’s mind. It wasn’t just a few bad fights, a few bad days, a scratch here and there, a little bit of pain. Shiro’s body was a chronicle of years of suffering. It didn’t matter that all of it had happened in one; Lance saw a lifetime and a half’s worth of scars. The patches of unmarred skin were few and far between, rising and falling underneath Lance’s arms.

Lance had a hard time forgetting the garrison golden boy he remembered, the one who had the best sim scores the organization had ever seen, the boy who had tons of friends and was always happy to help out any lowly kid who needed him.

Lance remembered meeting Shiro. It was hard to forget, as mundane as their first contact had been. Lance was a dumb kid, distracted as he walked to the cafeteria. He ran into someone just a bit taller than him and they had both stumbled, catching each other.

“I’m sorry,” he had laughed, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck, “you okay?”

Lance had been caught by the other boy’s smile. It was so wide, so genuine, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He really did care if Lance was okay. He’d always been so _good._ It wasn’t the perfect sim scores that he’d looked up to; it was that _goodness_. Holding Shiro in his arms, tracing the injuries of the past, Lance had a hard time believing that the goodness had stayed with him through it all, despite the fact that Lance knew it had. He saw it every single day, still.

Lance would have thought that seeing his hero broken, worn down, tired, and afraid would humanize him, make him seem less like a model of perfection. It was the other way around. Lance traced the pieces of flesh where the skin was just barely thick enough, scars pulled over muscles that grew so much, so quickly, that the skin didn’t have time to catch up.

“I have a nice moisturizer on the castle for these, you should let me help you.” He ran his hands down Shiro’s arms, trying to pull a little bit more heat out of the friction. His hands faltered at every scar and patch of rough, dry skin. “I swear, your skin would love it. Soak it up like lemonade in the summer. What did you like to do in the summer? I spent, like, every waking moment at the beach.”

Lance laughed, mindlessly continuing some story about learning how to surf. He tucked Shiro’s head under his chin, the soft breaths brushing along Lance’s neck. He liked it; they serves as a constant reminder that despite how cold Shiro was, he was alive. Lance crossed his arms back over Shiro’s chest and started rubbing small circles with his thumbs.

If someone had told Lance, two years ago, that he would have gotten to spoon a semi-naked takashi Shirogane, he would have cried and maybe melted and _definitely_ yelled, just a little bit. _Hell yeah I will_ , he would have said. He would have been excited. This, on the other hand, was nothing to be happy about. Lance couldn’t tell if Shiro was asleep or unconscious, too weak from the blood loss to open his eyes. Every time Shiro took a breath, Lance breathed with him. He counted the thready heartbeats underneath Shiro’s skin and was constantly disappointed by their weakness. He felt the cold flesh warm under his touch, but it wasn’t that hot, heavy sensation his mind liked to conjure when he thought of Shiro.

Lance shivered. Shiro was taking a lot of heat out of him. He glanced up and felt Blue’s presence, weakly. She was tired too. The distant, distorted lights far above them were a constant presence, and when Lance closed his eyes, he swore he could still see them.

“You’ve just gotta hold on, Shiro. They’re coming, I promise.” Lance rested his head atop Shiro’s. He kept mumbling and even Lance knew his words were becoming incoherent.

“Just a little longer…”

He drifted off, still mumbling little nothings that fell upon deaf ears, still tracing the scars in small, comforting circles. 

* * *

Lance didn’t quite know when he fell asleep, or even if he ever really did. He didn’t know at what point Shiro started talking, twitching, shivering in his sleep. Lance only knew when Shiro started screaming.

It pierced his ears and made its way into his heart. Lance’s eyes snapped open, Shiro’s back arching against Lance’s chest.

“N-no…” Shiro pleaded, eyes moving furiously behind his closed lids, tears streaking through the blood and grime on his face, “don’t—“

Shiro jerked in his arms, flinching away from some unseen blow, whimpering. He went slack again and Lance saw his tears catch the faint blue glow. Lance looked up and noted that on the surface of the planet, there was daylight. It was comforting to not have to see the Galra lights out of his peripheral vision every few seconds, now taken up by the light of the planet’s sun. It still wasn’t quite bright, but it vaguely reminded Lance of a dimly lit aquarium. He loved the aquarium.

Shiro’s lips started moving, mumbling, eyes twitching behind the lids once more, but no words formed. Lance brought one hand up to wipe away the tears with his thumb. Shiro pulled away from the contact at first touch, but when it didn’t hurt, he sighed into it.

Lance felt sentry feet through Blue and was very careful not to go tense under Shiro.

“Blue, can you bring us a little deeper?”

She complied and he watched the light drift away.

With the daylight filtering down to the ocean floor, he could finally see it. It was beautiful.

Here, at the bottom of the ocean, laid a city. More accurately, what had once been a city. Blue drifted on the edge of it and Shiro shivered. Lance tightened his grip on Shiro, letting the heat flow into him and maybe even comforting him a bit.

“I’ve always loved the ocean,” he started.

The haunted city rose up in front of him, the odd, twisting, mirrored surfaces and spires reaching towards the surface. Alien architecture was always weird, but somehow it made the city feel alive. He caught little movie glints of something and realized that in a way, it was. Schools of funky looking fish filtered in and out of the buildings just like people leading their busy lives, bright colors in a world of nothing but blacks and blues.

“I think my favorite fish is the lion fish,” he said, watching the bright clouds of life and color pass through his vision, “not because of the whole lions thing, but because of those wings and the colors and I’m pretty sure they’re, like, poisonous or something. Venomous? I never know the difference.”

Shiro whimpered, arching his back again, and Lance kept talking. Shiro didn’t still, trashing in Lance’s arms. Lance was starting to worry about Shiro hurting himself.

“Le’ me go!” Shiro shouted in a slurred voice, face pinched.

Lance’s arms flew away. He hadn’t realized what he’d been doing. He didn’t imagine Shiro had any pleasant memories of being held in place. Shiro jerked in the new freedom, breathing. Lance held his hands up.

He didn’t know what to do. _God_ , he was so useless.

Lance knew Shiro had nightmares. He’d never seen them, but sometimes, in the dark of night, he’d hear far-off, isolated screams. He would stare at the ceiling, listening, wanting to help, but just like this time, he had no idea what to do. Only now, the problem was literally lying on top of him.

What would his mother do? She would start with sound. His mother had a beautiful voice.

He started to sing, closing his eyes to the city and letting his mind make its way back home.

“ _And it’s a long day forward, so trust in me. I’ll give them shelter like you’ve done for me..”_

Shiro’s movements slowed down. Lance kept singing.

What would his mother do next? Something soft. She’d hold his hand, gently.

Lance took Shiro’s left hand in his own. Lance intertwined his fingers with Shiro’s and he felt Shiro clutch on, breath stuttering.

She’d brush her hands through his hair.

Lance let his hand hover over Shiro’s forehead for a moment before threading his thin fingers through Shiro’s bangs and brushing back. Shiro leaned into it and Lance kept singing.

Shiro’s eyes cracked open, bit by bit. His breathing hadn’t completely evened put yet, but Lance could tell that he was trying to match his breath with Lance’s own.

“Sorry,” he whispered, turning into Lance’s neck.

Lance kept stroking his hair. He spoke equally softly, cutting off his own song.

“Don’t be sorry.”

Shiro shook his head, tightening his hold on Lance’s hand.

“I’m supposed to be better than this.”

Lance gripped right back.

“You’re not supposed to be anything but yourself.”

He kissed the top of Shiro’s head. Shiro shuddered and Lance felt yet more tears against his neck. He was running dangerously low on fluids.

“I’m supposed to be a leader.”

“Shiro, you are.”

“Lance, I’m dying.”

Lance’s hand stilled in Shiro’s hair. “Shut up, Shiro, You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m so cold,” he responded, softly.

Lance did his best to press even more of his skin onto Shiro. He tried to pour every ounce of heat, every ounce of everything he had into Shiro, but his body didn’t respond. “I’m not going to let you die,” he said instead.

Shiro laughed weakly. “I don’t think it works like that, Lance.”

“I’ll make it work like that.”

Shiro smiled into Lance’s skin. “I like your confidence.”

“I’ll kick death’s ass, just you wait.”

“I look forward to it.”

Lance turned his eyes back to the hidden Atlantis, dead and alive at the bottom of the alien ocean. He refused to acknowledge the boots thundering above them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, quietly, eyes glued to the spires in front of him.

Shiro hummed. “I don’t want you to have to hear it.”

“Try me.”

Shiro swallowed and turned his head, still pillowed back on Lance’s bare shoulder. “This is kind of beautiful, isn’t it?”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I can just tell you about how cool lion fish are again, if you want.”

“No, I just…” he paused, “give me a minute.”

Lance nodded. It really was beautiful. He wondered what it looked like ten thousand years ago, back when the Altean databases were last updated.

“They’ve gotten worse.” Shiro finally spoke. “I’m supposed to be getting better but they just get worse because before they’d just—“ he choked, “they’d hurt me, or they’d be what I think are memories and I’d have to fight, or my arm— but at first they were all about me. I don’t when it started, but suddenly you were there, all of of you, and, and—“ Shiro took a one shaky breath and then another, calming himself. “It gets really bad when they start hurting you, and when they made me—“ Shiro stopped himself.

Lance gently scratched Shiro’s scalp.

Shiro continued. “It’s not real, and when I wake up, I know it’s not real, most of the time. I know it’s not real but it still gets to me.”

Lance waited for more, Shiro’s breathing coming slow and forced in Lance’s ears.

“I’m sorry, Lance. I’m getting better at it, it just takes a while/ My head…” Shiro wiped away the tears with his Galra arm and held it in front of his face, blue light reflecting from the water. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, twisting his hand in the glow.

“Stop being sorry,” Lance responded. “I could never live through that and come out on the other side as well as you have.”

Shiro huffed. “I’m a good liar.” He let his hand drop back to his side.

“Fake it ’til you make it.” Lance said into Shiro’s hair.

“Almost there.”

Almost there,” Lance repeated. They both stared at the city. “It is kind of beautiful,” he finally agreed.

“It is.”

Lance let the silence wash over him, and for the first time, he didn’t feel the urge to keep going, keep talking, to fill the gaps. There weren’t any gaps: just him, Shiro, and an entire civilization of beauty and life in front of them.

Shiro nuzzled back into Lance. “I don’t want to die.”

“I won’t let you. Don’t worry, they’re coming for us.”

Shiro nodded. “You’re good at this comforting thing.”

Lance scoffed. “Fake it ’till you make it.”

I think you’ve made it,” Shiro mumbled, eyes falling shut.

Lance watched him fall asleep. “I won’t let you die,” he muttered, one more time. 

* * *

 Lance had no idea how long night and day cycles were on this planet, but the day was gone much too quickly and the city disappeared into the dark once more. The small, colorful fish were gone, off to sleep in their city apartments, and now, instead, Lance kept catching glimpses of hulking forms out of the corner of his eyes; he didn’t want to see more of them. He’d hoped that the Galra would give up, but with two lions definitely stranded on this planet, he knew they wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.

Shiro was still too cold.

Lance just felt so _helpless._ Shiro was getting weaker and weaker by the hour. Lance had run out of songs to sing and his voice had gone hoarse. He had nothing to fee either of them, and even he was getting hungry. Shiro’s burn was looking worse by the minute, going a deeper red, puffy and blistered, and Lance knew that if they didn’t get him into a pod soon, the infection would take hold. Lance didn’t even want to think about what alien ocean bacteria could do to a man with an already compromised immune system.

He had no way to contact the castle without alerting the Galra to their position.

Lance sighed. He had no idea what to do. He was hungry, he was tired, he was afraid, and the man he loved was even worse off than he was. He just wanted to fall asleep and not have to deal with it, wanted to _not be here_. He wanted to cry and at some point, he did, careful not to shake too much and wake Shiro.

He had no idea what to do. He needed to get off the planet, but he only had one lion—

_Two_ , Blue interrupted, showing him images of the fissures in Black repairing themselves, of water draining and of metal untwisting.

“Black’s almost good?”

_Soon_ , Blue replied.

“Shiro can’t pilot her, he’s way too out of it right now.”

Blue purred, letting him know it’d be okay, and that Black loved her pilot enough to follow him even without his hands on the controls.

Lance smiled. “Tell her I’d follow him anywhere too.”

Lance looked down at Shiro. He’d already mapped each of the scars in his mind. There were Haggar’s claws on his side, a few starbursts that looked like they came from laser blasts or maybe gunshots, stab wounds, and slashes of all kinds.

“Don’t worry, Shiro, they’ll be here soon. It’s gonna be a great rescue, just you wait. I’m gonna hold you in my lap while I pull my cool pilot moves and you are going to _swoon_ , as God is my witness that is my goal. If I can make Takashi Shirogane swoon with my piloting, my entire life will be put down in the books as a _success_. Your piloting has definitely one hundred percent made me swoon, so it’s only fair. I think maybe Pidge will show up first, yeah? She’ll be all stealthy, like ‘Green Lion to Blue Lion, we’re her to rescue your dumb butts’ and I’ll be like bursting up through the ice and then Keith will swoop in…”

He regaled Shiro with the tale of their daring rescue. Lance was of course, the hero in the end.

“…and just before we put you in the pod, I’ll kiss you, just like Prince Charming, and you’ll be like ‘Lance, you saved me’ and I’ll say ‘yeah, baby, I promised I would’ and we’ll all live happily ever after. I can’t wait.”

Shiro remained still in his arms.

“Aren’t you excited, Shiro?” he pleaded, looking down.

He was so pale.

“I know you’re resting and all, but I would love it if you responded. That would make me really happy.”

Lance rubbed Shiro’s shoulders, building some warmth there.

“It’s been a long time, don’t you want to wake up?”

At the movement, Shiro’s head, previously comfortably resting on Lance’s shoulder, fell to the side, dangling limp. Lance scrambled to get out from under Shiro and laid him on the ground. His body was limp, barely shivering and covered in sweat. Even completely out of it, Shiro always, _always_ carried some level of tension in his muscles. He always looked like he was carrying a weight that none of them could see and he wouldn’t let any of them help. Lance had always wanted to see Shiro go soft, but not like this. Never like this.

Lance hunched over Shiro’s prone form and slapped his cheek.

“Shiro!” he shouted, and Shiro tensed, face pinching in discomfort. He shivered and went lax again. Lance let out a sigh, sitting back on his feet.

“We really gotta get you some care, hm?” He looked around the lion and swath exact same things he’d been seeing for hours. “I don’t have any water, or food, or, or, anything.” He groaned. “I’m sorry I suck at this. I know you’d rather be here with Keith, or Allura, or like Hunk or Pidge or Coran or anyone because then they could figure out something to get you better. Keith at the very least fight his way out.” Lance looked back up, the same lights ghosting past. “I don’t think we’d make it if I tried on my own, and with Black out of commission, all we can do is wait.”

Lance choked on a sob he didn’t know he was holding in.

“I can’t save you,” he sobbed, “I know I promised, and god I wish I could, but— but—“ Lance stumbled over his words for the first time in recent memory, “I _don’t know how._ ”

He let despair take over, falling onto Shiro’s chest.

“I’m so sorry, Shiro. I’m so so sorry…”

He heaved into Shiro’s neck, breathing in that disgusting mixture of sweat and blood and salt water. He did his best to keep as much of his skin in contact with Shiro’s, curling around the man to the best of his ability. He wished that his arms were less lanky, his chest was wider, his body warmer.

Shiro’s pulse was getting hard to find. 

* * *

 The last time Shiro woke up, it was quiet. Lance, curled around Shiro;s back, being a surprisingly good big spoon, awoke to a soft “I don’t want to die.”

Lance breathed. “We already talked about this, Shiro. I’m the hero here and I’m not going to let you die.”

Shiro shivered. “I’m ready to go, I just—“ Lance tightened his hold, “I don’t _want_ to.”

He’d felt Shiro shake with sobs several times in the past days, hours, whatever, but none of it had been like this. It was a full body shaking, air coming soft and short in ragged lungs.”

“I try _so hard_ to be okay, but, Lance, _I’m not._ I can’t close my eyes without something hitting me. I’m broken, and I hate that I’m a mess. I want it to stop, but I don’t wanna die.”

Shiro’s plea was one of the most heart wrenching things Lance had ever had to hear. It pierced straight too his heart, and suddenly, the image of the smiling Shiro from the garrison shattered. The man he was holding wasn’t that, not anymore.

“Okay, Shiro, listen to me.” Shiro nodded back against him. “First thing: you’re not going to die because I promised you wouldn’t, and I always keep my promises.”

He waited a moment, building up the confidence to say something he’d been wanting to say, for years.

“Second:” one more deep breath, “you are everything but a mess. You’re so strong, I know you can make it through this, and afterwards, I can help make sure that we make sure you close your eyes and only see my beautiful, smiling face, okay? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be. You’re everything I want.” Shiro took a sharp intake of breath. “When we get out of here, we can make sure you’re okay.”

In the following silence, Lance’s heart lifted to his throat and stayed there. He barely caught Shiro’s response, so small and hopeful.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

This time, when Shiro drifted off, Lance carefully pulled his arms out from under Shiro.

He pulled the suit back up over his shoulders and slipped his armor back on. It formed to him perfectly. He rolled his shoulders.

Blue was screaming in the back of his skull, probably telling him to be smart, not to rush into it with no plan, or something to try and stop him; he ignored her.

“I’m the hero, I’m the hero, I’m the hero,” he chanted, mostly to himself.

The lights above got more erratic, more intense.

“Now or never, Lance.”

He lifted Shiro just like he had earlier, with his knees and not his back

The lights above were getting brighter. Lance sat down in his seat, Shiro cradled in his arms, bridal style. Blue shifted to accommodate, putting the controls right where Lance’s hands were.

“Told you I’d get to hold you like a princess, right?”

Shiro mumbled something incoherent and leaned into Lance.

Lance closed his eyes. “I can do this.”

His hands hovered ver the control panel and he finally let Blue into his mind.

_They’re here_ , she screamed.

Lance opened his eyes just as the ice above them shattered.

His coms finally, blissfully, burst to life.

“—ance?! Can you h—“ _shzzt_ “—iro with you?”

“Yes!” he shouted, desperately, one hand on his helmet, trying to close the speakers even closer to his ear. “Pidge, I can barely hear you, but I’ve got Shiro and he is not in good shape, he’s in like, really really bad shape. I think Black will follow us up though.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, instead pointing Blue straight up. Lance felt Blue’s anticipation in his palms. He curled his fingers around the controls, grinned, and pushed. The force pushed him back into his chair and he howled, bursting up with a splash into the night, through the chunks of ice and wreckage of sentries.

Out of the water, his coms finally cleared up.

“Oh my god, Lance, are you okay? Is Shiro okay? Where is Shiro? Oh my god is Shiro dead—“

“Hunk,” Lance cut him off, “he’s not okay but he’s alive and in my arms right now.”

If Lance didn’t know better, he’d swear he heard Keith scoff. He was about to comment on it when there was a burst of light and movement at his right side.

“Watch your back.” Despite his accusatory words, Lance could definitely hear the fondness.

“Missed you too, mullet!” If this was a text, this is where Lance would put a smiley face emoji.

Hunk interrupted their bonding with a nervous, “Guys, we’ve got a whole bunch of Galra heading for us right now, and I’m glad everyone’s alive, but can we, um, plan? Or something?”

It was Pidge’s turn to cut in. “Should we run? With Shiro out of commission and Black wherever—“

“At the bottom of the ocean,” Lance corrected.

“—with Black at the bottom of the ocean,” she amended, “we can’t exactly form Voltron and we’re down a lion. Think we can take them?”

“I got this.” Keith said, not even stopping to think about it.

“That’s exactly what Shiro said, and look how well that turned out.”

Keith was silent.

“I don’t think we can run, either,” Pidge continued, “not with the command ship in orbit like that.”

Hunk took out an approaching ship. “Coran, Allura, got anything for us?”

Coran’s face popped up in a corner of Lance’s screen.He’d never been happier to see that dumb mustache. “The princess and I are coming in now, we might be able to get you in the shield and warp out before they can follow!”

Lance shook his head. “Not without Black.”

It was at that moment that Team Voltron got to learn exactly how extra Black really was, shooting out of the ice. She roared and Shiro twitched. She turned towards Blue, twitching tail pushing another ship into the frigid waters. Its glow faded as it drifted down to the haunted city below. Inside Blue, Lance could only feel joy and power and an overwhelming rage that he knew must have been coming from Black.

“I don’t think she wants to run.”

Lance heard Keith’s grin through the speakers. “Good.”

They were good at this; they had to be good at this. Lance was reminded of their first day training together, of being too petty to even serve as good shields for each other. Now, they moved like they were in each other’s minds, and in a way, they were. The battle kept getting further and further away from the planet’s surface, the lions moving one by one to strike closer and closer to the command. Black was sticking to Blue’s tail, hovering around her injured paladin.

Shiro twitched with every blast and movement from his lion.

The command ship loomed above them, and Pidge was very careful to remind them to stay in the blind spots of its cannon.

“Okay, thank you Pidge, but how do we take it out?” Lance asked. “Hunk, think you can mess it up just a bit?”

“I mean, I’ve done it before, and the castle’s just about here—“

“Coran strike!” Coran shouted, the princess groaning as they entered the battle, energy shot blasting from the castle’s bow.

It struck the cannon head on and Lance held the cheer that threatened to erupt from his throat. The light cleared, and the cannon held its form perfectly, not even charred by the blast. In fact, it looked even brighter than before.

“Oh, quiznak.” Coran muttered, moving the castle down into the ship’s blind spot with the rest of the lions.

The smaller sentry ships were getting few and far between, Keith quickly and easily taking them out of commission and plummeting down into the ice. The only foe left was the command ship.

“Paladins, we need a plan.” Allura’s clear voice filled Lance’s helmet.

“We know, princess,” he groaned, “and we’re working on it.”

She huffed at his response. “Pidge, do you believe Green’s powers of growth can give us enough time to warp away before the cannon can get a lock on us.”

Pidge hummed. “I’ll try.”

Green disappeared from Lance’s field of view. Shiro’s shaking was getting more violent, just on the verge of thrashing. Pidge yelped over the coms and she came back onto his screen once more.

“It’s absorbing everything I can throw at it!” she exclaimed. “It just started glowing green. I don’t know what to do.”

“Ooh, I have an idea!” Coran began, “Princess, do you think you can absorb the energy back?”

She hummed. “We can try. Paladins, keep the bridge distracted while we try this.” Shiro turned his head into Lance’s shoulder, face pinched. He felt Black growl.

“Almost there, Shiro,” he whispered.

The four lions pulled up out of their hiding spot behind what was, for all intents and purposes, basically a weird Galra Death Star, and slammed into the back of the bridge. They hovered like flies and Lance could feel the command’s eyes turn to them. On the other side of the bridge, the Castle of Lions slowly rose up like the sun on the horizon. The lions repeatedly slammed themselves on the hull like flies landing on food. On the edges of Lance’s vision, he could see the castle’s shields glow. Black hadn’t moved.

Shiro started moaning.

“Paladins,” Allura grit out, “it’s not working, and they’re going to train it on me soon.”

With her words, the cannon turned, just as she had predicted.

“Coran, get us clear, now!”

“I’m trying!” he yelled back.

Shiro screamed, back arching over Lance’s body.

His mind was filled with images of space, of wings, of glowing blue lights and two become one. It was all bright lights, and Black’s hulking body, her wings extended. He couldn’t see what was happening, it was just a roar in his head and some force that he could only feel deep in his chest.

Lance blinked his eyes, vision clearing. There was no ice planet, no dead city at the bottom of the ocean, and no Star Destroyer. Just five lions and a castle in the middle of space. Shiro was back to being slack against Lance’s chest, breathing heavily.

“Impossible…” Coran muttered.

“Um, what just happened?” Hunk asked.

“Shiro and the black lion just unlocked another power.” Allura answered. “Even Zarkon had trouble getting to teleportation.”

“Are you saying that we just teleported?!” Pidge could barely believe it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Keith cut her off before they could get more technical. “Shiro did it and it sounds like he needs medical attention.”

Lance looked down at the limp man he was still holding. Shiro was still too pale, still too cold, and still trembling. “He really does.”

* * *

 Landing in the castle was anti-climactic after the shit they’d just gone through. The battle still wasn’t over, not while Shiro was still unconscious and barely holding on to life. Lance had made a promise and he wasn’t about to break it. Blue stilled, falling into her resting position in the hangar, and Lance finally slumped.

“Almost there, Shiro.”

One last time, Lance got to practice his bridal carry on Shiro. He stumbled out of the lion and almost cried at the first waft of fresh air. He hadn’t realized how stale the inside of Blue had gotten, how the scent of blood and cooked flesh filled her hallways. He only got a few feet before a stretcher floated in front of him. It was weird, to lay Shiro down and take his hands away. They’d been in almost constant contact for days now, and without him, Lance’s arms felt empty.

Before someone could show up and take him away, Lance stopped. He hovered over Shiro, hand on his cheek, one last time. He rubbed small comforting circles into his cheekbones.

“I told you I never break my promises.”

He saw the boy from the garrison, the one who smiled and stumbled with him. He saw Shiro laying on a table in a tent in the desert. He saw Shiro saving his life, just a few months before. He saw this man, shivering in his arms, shaking apart before his very eyes.

Shiro’s eyes opened at the soft movements. Lance lost himself in them and grinned. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Shiro looked up at him, eyes clear and dry for the first time in hours and wide in disbelief. Lance could swear he caught a smile. “My very own prince charming.”

_Now or never, Lance._

The first meeting of their lips was dry, chapped skin on snapped skin. Lance’s warm breath filled Shiro’s mouth, lips barely moving, just breathing together more than anything else. It was soft, short, and slow. When Lance pulled away, Shiro tilted his chin, trying to follow the contact up. He smiled at Lance, blinking and confused, but so happy despite the pain. Lance gave him a soft smile back.

“My very own sleeping beauty.”

Shiro relaxed back onto the stretcher and Coran walked in with impeccable timing, trying to hide his knowing grin. Shiro’s eyes never left Lance and Lance returned to gaze. He was wheeled out of the hangar and put into a cryopod before Lance could wipe the stupid grin off of his face and follow.

* * *

 Watching Shiro sleep like this was much more peaceful than holding the unconscious man in his arm. Here, Lance could hear the steady beeping of the heart monitor, could watch the easy rise and fall of his chest.

After Lance’s shower, he had come straight back to the quiet med bay. He had made a promise and would follow it through, all the way.

Lance sat in front of the cryopod, cross-legged, and stared up at Shiro.

“I hope you know how much you scared me,” he kept saying, or some variation thereof, mixed in his his tales of their daring escape and rescue and time below the ice. None of his stories were quite true, but they sounded nice to him, so he kept talking.

He heard intentionally heavy footsteps creep up behind them, warning him of their approach. He turned and fell into a grin.

“Hey, bud! Sit with me?” he asked, turning back to Shiro.

He felt Hunk fill up the space on the floor next to him and let his head fall onto his friend’s shoulder, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“Fun adventure?” Hunk asked, words as gentle as the man saying them.

Lance didn’t respond immediately, and to Hunk’s trained senses, he knew exactly what that meant. He put his arm around Lance and pulled him closer into his side.

“Not fun?” he continued and Lance shook his head into Hunk’s shoulder.

“I kind of had to help him cauterize his own wounds and then hold him as the life, just, left him. It really really sucked, Hunk.”

Hunk frowned. “Poor Shiro. The universe is kind of the worst ever to him.”

Lance nodded. “He had a nightmare at some point, too, and god, it really sucks to see your hero cry.”

“You’ve been in awe of Shiro or in love with him or whatever for years and you just spent an entire day holding him in your arms, has he finally graduated from hero to human?”

Lance sat, thoughtful, looking up at Shiro, his proud jaw standing out in the glow, the easy rise and fall of his chest.

“He’s still my hero.”

Hunk turned to Shiro as well and Lance continued. “He’s still been through so much, and I know, god I know, that he’s still not okay, and after everything the Galra did to him and made him do, I’m not sure he’ll ever be okay, but man, you should have seen him.” Lance’s laugh was dry but not in-genuine. “He somehow saved the day when he was literally unconscious.”

“You know, to him, you’re probably his hero. You saved his entire life, and that’s pretty cool too.”

Lance’s soft smile did not go unseen by Hunk. “That’s what he said.”

They both kept their eyes glued to Shiro and the easy rise and fall of his chest. Hunk left some time later and the inhabitants of the castle came in, one by one, to try to relieve Lance of his post. He would shake his head no every time, despite the fact that his eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the minute.

He had made a promise and would follow it through to the end. 

* * *

 Lance was asleep when the cryopod finally hissed open, but he woke at the sound and was able to scramble to his feet and catch Shiro before he fell to the ground. Shiro was all too cold and Lance reflexively wrapped his arms around Shiro, running his hands up and down Shiro’s arms, pulling all the warmth out of himself and pouring it back into Shiro.

Shiro laughed weakly.

“Don’t worry, it’s just the cryo cold, this one will go away soon.”

Regardless, Shiro returned the gesture and held Lance’s waist, pillowing his head in the crook of Lance’s neck, now a familiar gesture to both of them. Shiro took a breath, shifting them both.

“You saved my life.”

Lance grinned. “Hell yeah I did.”

Shiro’s laugh verged on hysterical and Lance soon joined, their mad giggles dissolving their hold on each other, arms falling  but heads staying in close proximity. The fit of laughter died out slowly, fading until one would huff and they would start up once more. Shiro’s heavy sigh eventually quieted them, and when Lance finally opened his eyes, Shiro’s forehead was pressed against his own, searching his eyes for something. Lance took the first step, running his hands down Shiro’s arms, finding his hands, and intertwining their fingers.

Shiro tried to pull his Galra hand away, looking down, but Lance only held tighter and caught the wandering eyes with his own. Lance brought their connected hands up by their faces , and holding Shiro’s eyes, he kissed the metal fingers, one by one. Shiro’s eyes were wide, his entire body shaking with the strain of not pulling away, of letting the broken parts of him be loved. It was only when Shiro closed his eyes that Lance saw the tears fall.

“Shiro, look at me,” he pleaded, and Shiro shook his head, leaning it back to touch Lance’s. Lance felt the words,

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said, and Lance let his one hand release Shiro’s, coming up to cup the back of his skull.

“Who said I’m pretending? I’m the lucky one who is totally gonna make out with you and it’s gonna be awesome.”

Shiro let out a sob that could have equally been a huff of laughter.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Shiro mumbled, “but the rest of me…” he went silent for a moment, “the rest of me is going to be hard to fix.”

Lance brushed Shiro’s jaw up and their noses brushed.

“Who says you’re broken?”

Shiro opened his eyes, still searching for the lie that just _had_ to be somewhere in Lance’s face.

“I just,” he sighed, “I don’t know why you, of all people, would want me.”

Lance grinned.

“Do you want an itemized list? Because I have one.” When Shiro tried to pull him away, Lance held him in by moving his hand back to the back of Shiro’s head, rubbing the short hair with his thumb.

“Item one: dat ass.” Shiro laughed and Lance pressed a quick to Shiro’s lips, surprising them both. He plowed on.

“Item two: this jawline, and your shoulders, and your beautiful skin.” The next kiss was a bit slower, almost deepening, and Lance could feel Shiro shudder.

“Item three: literally everything about you, every good beautiful thing you’ve ever done and every good beautiful thing that you are.” The third kiss started with a soft peck, but Lance went in for more, coaxing Shiro to move his lips along with his, slowly, touch by touch.

Shiro pulled away reluctantly and shook his head. “I’m not like you, Lance. I can’t do what you do, and if I was in your position down there, I don’t think I would have been okay. Sometimes, in the dark, I forget where I am and—“ he cut himself off. “You’re too good for me.”

Lance laughed and Shiro was shocked out of his pity party.

“Babe, that’s what I keep saying about you.” Shiro’s smile was small, but Lance moved back in, turning his face up to Shiro’s. He put both hands behind Shiro’s head and pulled him in.

Both of their lips were already warm and plump, but this kiss was different. Shiro hesitated, and Lance would learn that he would almost always hesitate before taking something that made him feel good. His mouth opened under Lance’s fervor and their breath mingled, Lance moving soft and slow in Shiro’s mouth. Shiro moaned and Lance pulled back with a grin. When he opened his eyes he saw Shiro’s eyes, still closed, and an almost smile on his face.

“Thank you,” he whispered one last time.

“Always,” Lance responded. “Can we please go to bed now?”

Shiro nodded and yawned.

That night tucking Shiro in next to him and curling around the taller man’s body, Lance finally felt the tension leave his body and fall away into the blankets. He’d made a promise, and now, holding Shiro as he fell asleep, Lance followed it through to the end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can find me on:
> 
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> 
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